Microbrew
by eggsaladstain
Summary: With a bottle of beer, Vincent lets Catherine into his world, and with a glass of wine, she invites him into hers.
1. I

Micro (adjective) - very small  
Brew (intransitive verb) - to be in the process of forming

_Just a little _change  
Small_ to say the least_  
_Both a little scared_  
_Neither one prepared_  
_Beauty and the Beast_

* * *

**Microbrew**

I.**  
**

Catherine's drink of choice is wine. She's not a connoisseur by any means, but she can taste the difference between a table wine and a vintage label, and over the years, has learned how to appreciate the latter. It's the right choice for a woman of her age and demographic, it's the acceptable one, it's normal.

Occasionally - usually when she's coerced by her friends, coworkers, or sister - she'll succumb to a shot (or two or three). She's had plenty of hungover mornings to know that she probably shouldn't, but she does anyway, because sometimes it's fun and enjoyable and easy, and sometimes, it's nice to let loose and forget.

She doesn't drink beer. Not since her mother died.

...

When Catherine is in school, right after she starts her job at the bar, her mother makes it a ritual to visit once a week. She comes late at night, after last call and just before close, and together, they chat over two cold ones and a plate of greasy bar food. It's the one night a week she doesn't have to be a student or a bartender. It's the one night a week she can just...be.

But after _that night_, the bar is no longer her safe haven, but a reminder of her failure. And beers only draw attention to the loss of the person she used to share them with.

More than any other drink, beer reminds her of what she once had. And in her attempt to move on, it's one of the first casualties.

...

When Vincent offers her a brew, still cold from the fridge, it's the first time Catherine's had one in nine years. She accepts it because of nerves and because it would be rude to refuse (especially since she was the one who asked for a drink in the first place) and because she's pretty sure she needs to be at least a little buzzed to process everything that's happened.

It goes down so smooth and familiar, and for a moment, she swears she's back in that bar with her mother, talking about classes and singing along to an old jukebox. But she's not at the bar, she's in an abandoned warehouse with a man who's not supposed to be alive, talking about cases and conspiracies that she's not supposed to know about. And it's all so different, but there's something familiar about it too.

She comes back again (even though she said she wouldn't), and he hands her a beer before she can even ask (even though he's the one who told her to leave). She comes back again, and she finds one waiting for her on the table when she arrives.

She measures the time they spend together in bottles and cans, and it's been a six-pack and a half when she starts grabbing them from the fridge without even asking. The fridge is always well-stocked, she notices, but Vincent doesn't drink and JT doesn't drink much, so she wonders if maybe they keep the fridge stocked just for her.

Vincent doesn't drink, but he makes sure that she never goes thirsty, and Catherine doesn't drink beer, but she does when she's with him.

And before she knows it, she's coming back once a week for a beer and a conversation, and each bottle, each can, is a memory - a new memory, and an old one too.

She's missed this, she realizes, she's missed these memories. For nine years, she's been missing out. For nine years, she's been missing.

Nine years ago, when Catherine stopped drinking beer, it was because it reminded her of who she had lost. But now, sitting across from Vincent, a glass of water for him and a cold one for her, she thinks the real reason was because she just hadn't found the right person to drink it with.

...

With a bottle of beer, Vincent lets Catherine into his world, and with a glass of wine, she invites him into hers.

Because wine is what she drinks in_ her_ world, and beer is what she drinks in _his_.

She lives in these two worlds and separates them with a thin line, but sometimes, even she's not sure which is which. Hers is light and his is dark, or maybe it's the other way around, or maybe they're both just gray.

But dark or light, beer or wine, they are both hers, and she likes it this way, wants to keep it this way. Because she's a part of both worlds and they are both parts of her.

And Catherine always thought her drink of choice was wine, but lately, she thinks it might really be beer instead.

Because wine is what she drinks in her world, and beer is what she drinks when she's with him.


	2. II

Micro (adjective) - very small  
Brew (intransitive verb) - to be in the process of forming

_Just a little _change  
Small_ to say the least_  
_Both a little scared_  
_Neither one prepared_  
_Beauty and the Beast_

* * *

**Microbrew**

II.

Vincent's drink of choice these days is a vitamin concoction, the contents of dozens of different chemicals (that JT _borrowed_ from the university) blended together into a science experiment more than a smoothie. He and JT developed it over the years as a way to keep his system in check, a temporary solution while they work on a cure. It doesn't get rid of his _episodes_ completely, but it helps keep them to a minimum. It tastes like cough medicine and burns down his throat, but that's a small price to pay. Most days, it's enough to make him feel almost normal.

Occasionally - usually when he's feeling reckless, which isn't often, - he'll drink a Red Bull. The electrolytes in it heighten his senses without making him _beast out_, a fact he first discovered when he got back from Afghanistan. It's such a rush, the feeling of being invincible, and he knows that it's dangerous, because that kind of power is addictive, but sometimes, it's fun, and sometimes, it's nice to let loose. The mornings after, though, are a different story. His body reacts like a hangover but tenfold, but even worse than the pounding headache is the truth - he's _not_ normal.

He doesn't drink beer (or anything else alcoholic, for that matter). Not since he came back.

...

One of his first nights in Afghanistan, he and the rest of his squad get roaring drunk and end up singing patriotic karaoke in front of their platoon. They're not, strictly speaking, supposed to drink during deployment, but that night was one of those rare special occasions, so they were allowed to take the night off and have a couple beers.

Apparently, they put together an interpretive dance routine set to the National Anthem, which he later hears was impressively well-synchronized considering how wasted they were.

After that, it becomes something of a game to see how what sort of drunk performances his team will put on next, and other soldiers stockpile a secret stash just for them, with alcohol taken from raids or sent by sneaky loved ones back home. One night, they reenact the Civil War; another night, it's Shakespeare.

This is how Vincent remembers his squad. As rowdy drunks, capable soldiers, good men.

After Muirfield, they're no longer men - they're super soldiers, living weapons. And then, they become something less than human - monsters, beasts - and then, they become terminated.

Vincent survives, not because he has a strong will to live, but by a combination of skill and luck. It's ironic, because the only reason he has these skills is because of Muirfield.

He doesn't know what happened to the rest of his squad. Maybe some of them were lucky like him, but most, he knows, were not. He saw the bodies, even though he tried not to. They were the bodies of men.

This is how Vincent remembers his squad.

Not as the_ beasts_ they became, but the_ men_ they used to be.

...

When Vincent finally makes it back home, he has his first and last beer since Afghanistan.

It's after he finds JT, when they move into the abandoned warehouse and quietly celebrate the end of their old lives with a couple of Buds. This time, he doesn't get drunk and sing off-key. This time, he becomes a beast again. It's been ten years since his last episode, and he's more than a little shocked by how familiar it feels, how easy it feels.

It's like he was never human at all.

He stops drinking after that, and JT doesn't drink much to begin with, so for a long time, they don't have alcohol in the house at all.

One week, JT comes home with a six-pack and explains that he had a rough week at work, he couldn't help it, and he's sorry for the temptation. But Vincent's not tempted. He's been without it for so long that he barely remembers what it tastes like. It's hard to want something you don't remember.

When Catherine comes over for the first time, after she finds out what he is, she asks him for a drink, as if he's normal, as if the whole situation is normal. He grabs a bottle from the fridge and hands it to her, and when she drinks it, he thinks of that night nine years ago, the night he saved her. She's changed in these nine years. So has he.

She sets the bottle down and puts her hand on his face, and for the first time in a long time, he_ is_ tempted.

...

She finishes the rest of that six-pack over the course of a few weeks, and a childish thought enters his head, that she might stop coming when they run out of beer. He asks JT to buy another pack, and makes up an excuse about how they should try to live normal lives again, and he can tell JT doesn't believe him, but he buys the beers anyway.

The next time she comes, he hands her a can before she can even ask, and the time after that, he leaves one out on the table waiting for her. She's gone through a six-pack and a half when she starts grabbing them from the fridge without even asking. There's always beer in the fridge now, and he wonders if she notices, that he keeps it stocked just for her.

Before he knows it, she's coming back once a week, and they talk about her mother and his squad and cases and Muirfield. It feels right. It feels _normal_.

And Catherine doesn't want normal, because she's already in too deep in his world, but normal is all Vincent wants, because he's starting to fall into hers. When they meet, he wonders which world they're in. His, hers, or maybe somewhere in between.

But which world doesn't really matter, because he wants all of them. And he hasn't wanted anything in a long time, but he does now. He wants to get drunk again and embarrass himself in public, and when he pulls a beer from the fridge for her, he wants to take another for himself as well. He wants to have dinner with her, and wine. He wants to be normal.

In these moments, sitting across from her at his table, a beer in her hand and a glass of water in his, he feels like he is.

Catherine may not want normal, but she treats him like he is, and Vincent may never be normal, but he is when he's with her.

...

_Fin_


End file.
